


Dr Seward's Diary

by 100dabbo



Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belts, Blow Jobs, Classical Music, Desk Sex, Dom/sub, Dry Humping, First Orgasm, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Foreplay, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal (sort of), Masturbation, Missing Scene, Nipple Licking, POV First Person, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Slang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: "All needless matters have been eliminated..."A recording on Dr Seward's phonograph remained undiscovered - until now. When Quincey arrives at Jack's office with need of assistance, debauchery ensues.
Relationships: Quincey Morris/John Seward
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	1. Dr Seward's Diary

**Dr Seward’s Diary – 7th of September**

Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well as I can remember it, since last I made an entry. Not a detail that I can recall must be forgotten; in all calmness I must proceed.

It was the evening of the 6th and Quincey took it upon himself to visit me in my office, ‘man to man’ as he claimed… He arrived no sooner than 9 o’clock, a pressing matter clearly on his mind as he entered; fingers massaging his temples and breaths of a ragged nature. Naturally, as a doctor should, I offered him a seat opposite my desk and allowed him to speak of what was on his mind:-

“Jack, I came to see you today not only as a friend, but as a doctor,”

Inherently, I became worried; for what reason should a strong and fit man like Mr Morris be concerning himself with need of a doctor? I said nothing and let him to continue,

“A poor tension, I have noticed, has arisen on my side. It is the muscle, I assume, for I must admit, I haven’t exercised much of late and I suspect it has pulled.” He rested one of his hands on the area he mentioned, wincing slightly as he touched it. Without delay, I took my notebook from its habitual place within my drawer and opened it to a fresh page before I said:-

“Allow me to inspect it, Quincey, to be of utmost confidence. If it were anything more serious, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you fell ill.” I arose from my seat and he did the same, and as he unbuttoned his shirt, I couldn’t help but notice the tones of his muscled abdomen, and how my heart seemed to inexplicably throb within my chest; the hairs stand up on the back of my neck as though I was suffering of some kind of anxiety. He brushed his hair back before he spoke once more:-

“Just here.” And he pointed once more to the muscle in question, though I couldn’t tell for which it was; it seemed all medical knowledge had dissolved from my brain the moment he pulled back that thin cotton shirt to expose the smooth skin beneath.

I moved forward, hesitantly, as he stood there like a perfect statue, poised and ready for me to lay my hands on him. I set my hand on the muscle and squeezed, noting the slight tension he himself had observed, and he winced once more as I increased the pressure. I released my hold, afeard he would be in too much distress should I have continued, and grabbed for my notebook,

“I’ll make some notes,” I told him, “Perhaps something can be prescribed for the pain.” I motioned forward again to touch him, and he quickly adjusted his leather braces to the side, allowing more room for my fingers to roam across his skin. This time, as I inspected the muscle, he made no physical reaction, forcing me to look up in uncertainty at his round and twinkling eyes…

I hesitate to say this, lest anyone but myself review these recordings, but he was simply and unequivocally the most handsome gentleman I had laid my eyes on. Gentle but noticeable cheekbones to structure his face, a perfectly sculpted jawline to end at a strong chin, the lips above full and soft…

He stared back at me, not with any discernible confusion or objection, but an intimate and soft look that seemed to channel within me. I soon realised neither of us had said anything for a considerable amount of time. I withdrew my hand from his abdomen, though it was quickly caught by Quincey’s left, his right I saw in my peripheral; drifting up to land ever so gently on my chin. His lips parted and he said:-

“Jack, I’ve had my eyes on you ever since we met with Miss Lucy.”

My brow furrowed, for why would a man intent on marrying a woman of such class be simultaneously pining for not only a humble doctor, but a fellow suitor? I attempted to express my confusion,

“Quincey, I-“

Then, his lips locked onto my own, his moustache brushing the skin around my mouth so softly and heavenly, I couldn’t help but lean into an embrace. I suspected my own beard was bound to be scratching against his mouth and to his own discomfort, but it became apparent to me that this was most likely not his first time kissing a fellow man, as he made no objection to my advances. With ever so gentle movements, his hand released its grip from my own, and snaked around my waist, pulling me towards himself so our chests touched. Surely, then, he could feel my heart knocking against my ribs while our lips continued to kiss, as he placed his other hand on my breast. After a few seconds, he withdrew his mouth from mine, still maintaining his hold around my waist and said:-

“When she chose Art, I was beyond relief…”

I opened my mouth to implore more, but he rested a finger on my lips, a smirk stretching his mouth. Those lips of his were frankly irresistible, compelling me meet with them again. His hands began to wander across my torso, beginning to unbutton the fastenings on my waistcoat and pull down my braces with speed. It was unclear, at this moment, what his intentions were - whether he planned on continuing to just kiss, or progress onto more explicit actions…

It became clearer, I realised, seconds later as his hand drifted from my waist to land on my rear. I looked up to him, conveying my shock with eyes staring into his, to which he replied, again, with a smirk. At this point, my heart was racing at the same speed as my brain as it tried to find a way to explain what was happening; how I was feeling; why I refused to object to these advances of his; why every touch he made on me drew me closer…

He kissed me again with fervour, gripping onto me with his strong hands purposefully, his tongue attempting to slip into my mouth, and with success. It swirled around my own in a languid fashion; he was taking his time, drawing it out before he completed his next move. He parted from my mouth and gripped both his hands to my hips, forcing me over my desk hurriedly; stationery scattering across it and my notebook falling to the floor. The loss of his tongue in my mouth was irksome and I bit my lip as I waited for him to continue…

I was at his submission; a strong American man like himself was born to dominate, be firm and take control. And I must admit, I didn’t oppose of his actions for a second. His Texan charm intoxicated my very spirit, making me limp and subservient to everything he wished to do to me.

The grip on my hips tightened and he brought his body closer to me, beginning to push against my behind, the both of us still fully clothed from the waist down. I could feel Quincey harden as he ground on my curve, my arms braced on the desk to support myself while his thrusts became faster. Slowly, one of his hands reached up to my chest again, pulling me up for my ear to be at his mouth level. He took it between his teeth and gently nibbled before whispering:--

“Jack, are you going to let me fuck you?”

His language astonished me and the straightforward way he did things impressed me. He was certainly not the type to stand on ceremony; and the way he said my name! All I could do was nod in acceptance as he fondled at my belt, taking it upon himself to unbuckle it and pull down both my trousers and undergarments, leaving me fully exposed to his curious eyes…

And as I faced forward, I could tell that his eyes were solely focused upon me, until his head came around my shoulder. I moved my own head to look at him, and his lips latched onto mine; grabbing my throat with his left hand, his right trailing behind and eventually replacing his tongue. His slender fingers traced the inside of my mouth, pushing deep into my throat and pressing down on my tongue. My eyes closed in ecstasy as he took them deeper, forcing them down to almost hit my reflex. Once he withdrew, I was gasping for oxygen, staring as his saliva covered digits and realising where he was about to put them…

He traced one between my legs, stopping at the rim and circling. I waited with bated breath, clenching my teeth in glorious anticipation for him to take control of me; to use me; to gratify his own needs. It was when he pushed it in that I yelped, exploring at his own discretion to prepare me for his own length. The second one slipped in just a moment later, compelling a groan to release while he moved them in a scissoring motion. And then, with a domineering force, he pushed my back down to bend me over the desk completely, gaining more leverage to push in deeper, hooking to find my prostate gland. The sensation was indescribable, something I’d never thought was possible for a man to experience; simply orgasmic in every way – though that was to come later…

He withdrew them gently and stroked my back, using his other hand to undo his trouser fastenings and reveal himself. He broke in with a deliberate slowness that suggested he was being considerate, and also relishing the sensation for himself. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before – a positive to be assured, though terribly unexpected to be coming from a man like himself. And then, Quincey’s body bent over me, both hands pushed firmly on my back to keep me down. I couldn’t help moaning in the terrific pleasure of it all beneath him, basking in the ecstasy from each willing thrust he gave. 

I hadn’t even realised, at this point, that I too was erect, and just as I began to become lost in each momentous push, he pulled away, seized my hips again and forced me to face him. His lascivious glare weakened my knees and I stared back; eyes full of wanton lust. He hiked me onto the desk once more, throwing my legs over his shoulders, and entered me again, faster than before. I became aware of the desk creaking beneath my weight; Quincey’s confident motions causing it to rock back and forth, rattling the pens and pencils strewn across it in perfect chaos around me. The smirk that stretched his wonderful mouth was all that I could focus on, until he grasped me in a tight hold and stroked his hand up and down…

My moans became chokes of libidinous passion and as he gazed down on me, the lecherous look in his eyes growing hotter and hotter, gripping to my naked thighs, evidently savouring the pleasure in each drive forward. The sounds were simply pornographic; skin meeting skin; flesh meeting flesh; our coupled moans a symphony of pure delectation. When I began to grow closer, my hands searched for something to hold, to grip, to help me bare through it, and when I found the sides of Quincey’s unbuttoned shirt hanging over me, I grasped without second thought, pulling it towards me with all my strength. My face screwed in the intense pleasure of his movements, his hand pumping my member carefully; precisely rubbing his thumb across the slit and driving me mad. I pulled harder on his shirt, all my strength concentrated in the force as I writhed beneath his looming figure, eventually tearing it from his back as I finished in his hand…

The orgasm was a rush yet to be comprehended by my brain, even now – being a Christian man, I had never sought to pleasure myself in any way, and I suppose now, my virginal status has been revoked by this handsome Texan man and his lustful intentions...

Though, the experience of bliss Quincey graciously provided me was yet to be over, as he wiped my own spoils on my cotton shirt and continued with his meticulous thrusts; in and out with purpose; grunting deeply and staring back at me whilst I gazed though my eyelashes. I reached down and stoked his abdomen, remembering the reason he claimed to be visiting for, and laughed. His smile stretched wide too, showing the beautiful pearls in his mouth; then turning into a bared grimace as he finished inside me seconds later. It was warm and wet, glorious in every way. He remained inside for a while, staring into my soul with his hazel eyes, panting uncontrollably. 

When he withdrew himself, I sighed in relief, finally resting in this after glow of delight. I watched as he tucked himself back away, then kindly presented a handkerchief from his pocket like a true gentleman, handing it to me for me to clean myself. While I wiped away the evidence of our sin, he chuckled and asked:-

“I don’t suppose you have a spare shirt here?”

My face flushed and I pointed to the wardrobe on the other side of the room containing my doctor’s shirts. He shrugged one on, adjusting his braces over it, watching me intently as I pulled up my trousers and fixed my belt back on. His charismatic smirk seemed permanently etched into his face, forever content with everything he did to me. I looked at him fondly and happier than ever as he said:-

“I love you, Jack.”


	2. Note, Dr John Seward to Quincey P. Morris

**Note, Dr John Seward to Quincey P. Morris**

Meet at my rooms at precisely midnight. I await your arrival,  
Jack.

**Dr Seward’s Diary – 17th September**

He stood in the doorway of my bedroom, handsomely posed with his hands in his pockets, the sides of his jacket pulled back to show off his enormous Bowie knife. I understood that he had it primarily for female attraction, but I think he knew it worked quite well on myself; its beautifully polished blade hanging by his hip with a length comparable to his own. He watched me undress with same sultry look in his eyes as before, keenly glaring, devouring my form without a word. I prepared for my night clothes, slipping off my trousers and discarding them on the floor without attention, locking eyes with him. And though I must admit I never had any intention of putting those night clothes on, I felt the urge to pretend, as though it were a game of ours to constantly repel each other’s attraction; inevitably falling into one another when both undressed.

The room was silent, save for the rustle of trees outside my window, lightly waving their branches to tap on the glass pane. The door hinge groaned as Quincey shut it behind him, not bothering to fasten the lock; I thought that he perhaps hadn’t had the intention of stay long. I noticed a certain lust was contained in his eyes when he looked at me that was restrained, waiting patiently so as not to expose itself before the time was right. Then, hearing those gentle steps of his boots on the hardwood floor, quietly approaching me as I stood with nothing between him and my flesh but a thin cotton shirt, made me realise what I was doing; the immorality of it all. Whilst our dearly beloved Lucy was on her deathbed, the two of us sought for each other’s company – the type not commonly admired by most folk. Clearly, Quincey had no guilt of his own, it was only this morning he told me he had moved on from her; leaving me to assume that his affections had entirely shifted onto myself.

He just stood, not making a move, looking at me with those brown eyes, a curl of his hair drooping on his forehead. He reached into his pocket for his tobacco tin, took a piece between his fingers, and while maintaining eye contact with me, placed it between his teeth. One might think it would be difficult to chew in a seductive manner, but Morris managed it just fine. It made me long for his mouth on mine all the more. My eyes tore away from his to focus on the lips as he masticated; the slow, repetitive grind of his teeth, the wet noises his tongue made as it ran across his gums, seeking the straggling leaves gone astray in his mouth.

He unbuckled his belt whilst he did so, removing that magnificent blade from its place on his side and throwing it onto the chaise lounge. Next to come off was his jacket, then his necktie, which followed the knife in its place on the lounge. Neither of us had said anything yet; it seemed all communication had been reduced to looks and gestures, everything implied and then to be inferred by the other man. 

He churned his tongue again, and in a spontaneous action, spat out on the floor the tobacco from his mouth. Such was his American way, and before I had time to dispute his action, he pushed his mouth onto mine, grabbing the sides of my neck to pull me closer, the divine softness of his lips latched to me making me moan. I could taste the bitterness on his tongue as it swirled around my own, I felt the hot passion in his body from his sweaty hands on my nape, the raw and unadulterated carnal energy being released upon me with his grip, hands slowly travelling down from my neck and onto my hips. And as he began to kiss me more gently, allowing my own hands to reach his chest, he fingered my shirt at its hem, tenderly caressing and massaging it between his fingers. He took his lips away from me and smiled with that eternal smirk of his that made me bite my lips and desire his touch. After a prolonged gaze into my eyes, Quincey said to me :-

“Oh, Jack, I want nothing more than to ravish you, here, on your own bed.”

I looked back up at him, my hands firmly resting on his broad shoulders and replied with a whisper,

“What on earth is stopping you?” One of my hands drifted down to hold onto his belt and carefully un-loop it, tossing it on the floor alongside my discarded trousers. His lips parted, only responding:- 

“Shit, Jack.”

His profanity would always awaken something within me, the taboo and unfiltered way he spoke was wonderfully liberating. I unfastened his buttons, gradually exposing his beautifully muscled chest. I placed my tongue on his areola as I carefully pulled the shirt from his limbs, inciting an unexpected moan to come out of him whilst I closed my lips around it to kiss it, just as I had his mouth before. Tracing his fingers through my hair, he held the back of my head and pushed me onto it harder, though when I introduced my teeth, he pulled me back to look into my eyes again. I said,

“I want you, Quincey. Do whatever you want to me.” 

His lips stretched to a smirk as he heard it. He pushed me onto the bed and seized my legs, pulling himself out of his trousers, then shaking them off of his legs completely. When I saw his full form before me, I was in awe. During our act in my office, I was too caught up in my own pleasure to notice his physique; seeing him up close was something to behold indeed: strong, prominent collar bones that dipped at his neck, tracing down to perfect pectorals and the toned abdomen I had seen before. He saw my smile and wanton expression as he immersed two of his fingers into his own mouth, wetting them with his saliva. I understood the routine, now, and longed for him to commence; foreplay way almost tedious in comparison to the real thing – his real thing. He knelt on the bed above me; his left hand pushed onto my stomach to keep me down and his right snaking up my legs, finding its way to my rim. He pushed both inside slowly, my limbs loosening and I moaned out, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets in a tight grip. He chuckled, beginning to thrust them in and out with such assiduousness that I was unsure if I could hold on…

He pulled them away and lined himself up to me, holding my legs apart to expose every inch of my body that he wished to look at with his roaming eyes. The dim lighting cast a shadow on him, making him but a silhouette looming over me, ready to engage in such delicious coition that my heart eagerly throbbed in my ribs for it. He thrusted in, powerfully, engrossing his entire length inside, dipping his body down so his face was fractions away from my own, panting heavily. He saved his groans, lest it alert our friends on the lower levels, but I truthfully couldn’t help it, the euphoric sensations he gave to me were all too brilliant not to relish in; each push forward a new delight of feeling and ecstasy.

As before, he held me in his hand and stoked with wonderful precision, his soft hands running smoothly on the sensitive underside, applying pressure at just the right point to make me harden more.

“Talk to me, Jack,” He said in his low, Texan voice, “Tell me what you want…”

I hesitated, for talking in the lewd manner he so desperately wanted was certainly not my forte, by any means. Through my whines, I stifled a few words:-

“Quincey, for all that is good and holy on this here earth; I want you to conquer me, pacify me, subjugate me in any way that you see fit,” I opened my longing eyes to stare at him, his brow covered in sweat that tricked down his handsome face, “Vanquish from me any feeling of malcontent and depression, and without any doubt or hesitation, fuck me until I cannot tell you the time of day.”

He took it and ran with it, ceaselessly thrusting like a wild stallion between my legs, bucking forth and pushing me down onto the bed with such domineering force that my wails could surely have been heard by my other guests. When I remembered that Quincey had not locked the door, a sudden fright came over me; should they interpret these blissful moans as those of pain or peril, we would be caught in the act, exposing ourselves to their unwitting eyes and tarnish our longstanding friendships and reputations. He must have noticed this, the looks in my eyes betraying me, as he bent down to kiss me, thereby distracting my brain of that terrible hypothetical and liberating me enough from it to focus on the pleasure he was giving; the gentle brush of his moustache on my lips soothing me into deeper indulgence, his strong and powerful motions causing my body to writhe. He pulled away and shouted out in a low growl:-

“Fuck, Jack! You’re amazing!”

His constant use of expletives was wonderous to hear, the raw passion in his body breaking through to his language, yelling out his pure and unyielding thoughts to me as his length penetrated my being, mercilessly inflicting this vivid pleasure that ran throughout my body. The primal heat of his expressed urges forced another groan from me, his vigorous pushes that bounced the mattress beneath us, creaking the floorboards rhythmically. 

Both his hands moved from my legs to the collar of my shirt, gripping tightly and almost pulling me up. I knew what he was going to do before he did it, serving as recompense for my own actions before; with his great strength, he tore it down the middle, buttons flying off as he exposed my torso, the reckless and hasty behaviour amazing me. When his hands roamed across my chest and he thrusted in once more, my back arched as he hit my gland, the orgasmic pleasure radiating throughout me, making it more difficult to keep going. He introduced his palm to me again, tugging with such perfect cadence, coupled with his lustrous drives forward; I could not help but finish blissfully, painting my stomach with white.

As he watched me, he groaned lasciviously, a blazing lust contained within in his eyes. Continuing his vigorous thrusts, he pushed my legs to my chest, shoving into me with more might than ever. I could sense in his eyes as he neared his climax, pupils dilated wide; he pulled himself from me, stroking his length with his own palm, holding the base as if it were sword when he spilled himself; ragged and laboured breaths panting out of him like a spent athlete.

I leant backup to kiss him, seizing the back of his neck and entwining my fingers in his beautiful locks; he matched my action and urged himself into it, quietly moaning against my lips. The glorious afterglow was exquisite and he gently lay me back down onto my bed, using the same handkerchief as he had given me before to wipe our spoils from my stomach. He said to me:-

“Jack, you’re the most wonderous person I’ve ever had.”

I closed my eyes and smiled as he pulled the torn shirt away from me. He settled beside myself and took me in a comforting embrace. His moustache brushed on my skin as it always did, and I said,

“I love you too, Quincey.”


	3. Dr Seward's Diary II

**Dr Seward’s Diary – 19th September**

We stayed in the drawing room as we waited for Art to arrive; myself, Van Helsing and Quincey sitting on the sofas and eagerly anticipating his entrance to be with his poor Lucy; she had begged us to telegram a message to him to come at once from his father’s side and see her. The Professor was pacing the room impatiently, knowing that it was his presence that could bring up her spirits - and perhaps ours too. At nearly six o’clock, Arthur arrived, and the Professor bolted from the room to meet and update him on Lucy’s worsening condition, then Quincey arose after him, groaning as he stood up. Before he left, he whispered with a hushed tone:-

“I’ll be at your rooms by one o’clock, Jack. Be ready for me.” And with a sly wink, he left, greeting our friend and leading him to Lucy’s room.

As per his request, I prepared myself for his arrival, drawing a hot bath in my rooms in candlelight, immersing myself in the hot, steaming water to be clean for his arrival in the next hour. There was a perfect equanimity in the darkness and quietude of the room; only the slightest flicker of candles giving enough light to see. Light still streamed through from beneath the door, the corridor still illuminated by the gaslights even at this hour. 

The shadows of two feet appeared on the other side of the threshold, the metal jangle of two spurs on boots giving away Quincey’s identity, sure to be purposeful. I stared at the brass handle with bated breath, hearing the quiet squeak as he turned it and opened the door, his perfect silhouette standing in the doorway. No jacket or tie this time, only his cotton shirt and braces hanging from his trousers, sleeves rolled up. All he said was:- 

“Good evening, Jack.”

Golden light surrounded his shadow, glinting ever so slightly on that illustrious blade by his hip and flooding into the rest of the room, reflecting on the water. He closed the door behind him as he came in, approaching me slowly and tossing his hat onto the bed. I kept my breaths under control as he knelt down beside the tub, his beautiful face illuminated by the candlelight in the room. I sat up in the bath with my teeth clenched in suspense, the water lapping gently onto the sides while I shifted my position to look at him. My arms braced on the sides on the basin as I watched his hand slowly drift onto my own, stroking my knuckle with his thumb. I stared eagerly, quick breaths making my bare chest rise and fall in the water, the heart inside my chest beating with rapidity. I could tell he enjoyed it; the way he made me feel with his presence, his dominating aura always being my sole focus whenever we were in isolation.

His hand traced up my arm as his eyes locked onto my lips, waiting for them to quiver once he submerged it into the water, feeling down my stomach until he reached onto me. As he began to stroke, I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into the water, feeling his mouth lean down to latch onto my jaw as my head reclined back. He travelled down onto the sensitive skin of my neck, soft lips pressing their wet kisses as he caressed me; the pure bliss that I always anticipated every time he suggested – or rather told me – that we should meet in seclusion, only the two of us in sinful company.

His hand picked up a speed, water splashing out of the bath and soaking into the sleeves of his shirt. I felt myself throbbing in his fist, breaths becoming ragged; a hand of mine grabbed to his nape to pull him closer onto my neck, lips secured tightly onto the skin, gently sucking. I moaned to the feeling and as he pulled his mouth away, my eyes opened to meet with his seductive glare, brown eyes narrowed and full of desire. I bit my lip in an attempt to compose myself, not realising it made me look even more wanton through his eyes,

“Oh, Jack, I love when you make that face for me…” He smiled again, his white teeth shining in the light. He took his hand away from me and out of the water, grabbing the towel to dry off. He offered it to me with an outstretched arm, unbuttoning his shirt as I stood up from the basin, water tricking down my arms and legs. I took it from him, wiping the water from by skin, eyes meanwhile concentrating on following the descent of his hands as he exposed himself, just like the first time in my office; his smooth, toned abdomen perfectly chiselled with those subtle muscles of his. When I stepped out, he grabbed the back of my neck and joined our lips together again, and when I leaned into his embrace, he lifted me up and dropped me onto the bed, leaning over me while his tongue worked into my mouth. I groaned in vexation as he pulled away once more, pulling off his trousers and exposing himself to my ravenous eyes. 

Just as beautiful as every time before, he held himself in his hand and stroked carefully, simply letching at my body before him; outstretched, naked, vulnerable to his every whim. I begged with my eyes for him to touch me, caress me, conjugate with me, his coy smirk a true reflection of his lustful intentions with me this evening. It had only been two days since we engaged in our sinful coition last, and he was back for more…

He spread my legs apart and concentrated on my length with parted lips. His eyes snapped up to my own before he bent down slowly until his mouth was level with my groin, playfully chuckling with his tongue between his teeth. I had an inkling for what he was going to do, I had heard about it and what a couple might do to one another in the marital bed, but never expected to experience it myself. He effortlessly slipped it past his lips, wrapping his mouth around me with care and accuracy, his wet tongue lapping on the base as he descended. I moaned, more high pitch than that which I usually expelled as he hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head up and down. He pushed down, taking it into his throat, and as he rose up, he hugged the sides with his lips, delightfully tugging on the skin until he reached the tip, giving it once last pass with his tongue before he loomed over me again.

The fire in my loins was burning; hot passion that longed for Quincey to return his generous mouth to me… He seized my hips and flipped me round onto my front, both hands pushed onto my shoulders to embed my face into those yielding cushions. I was blind to his actions, other than touch I hadn’t a single iota of a notion as to what he was about to do. He bent down, hands smoothly drifting down my spine to grip my hips, and put his mouth back onto me, tongue exquisitely reaching and winding in small concentrated licks and a second later a wide stroke with a slow, drawn out motion; the wanton whines escaping from me voicing the beatific pleasure he was exacting. I hissed his name, muffled into the pillows as he carried on with his mauling, starting to dig his fingers into my flesh. When he himself moaned, I could not help but bite the sheets and lift my head from its position in the cushions; I looked behind to see him, tongue extended and eyes closed in concentration, a tug of a smirk on his lips as he noticed me. His gaze returned to me and he leant up, towering above me and shuffling closer. With one hand, he pushed my shoulders back down and with the other, stroked himself again, taunting me:-

“D’you want it, Jack?” His smile was as charming as it always was, the laconic speech he always used in his Texan dialect perfectly concise. I managed a muffled ‘yes’ into the sheets, my legs already trembling in anticipation as he rubbed it between them, slowly and deliberately rutting against me to draw out my waiting, those soft fingers tracing on my back, whispering, “I’m going to fuck you till you don’t remember your name…” My heart was racing and eager for him to begin, eyes squinted as I prepared for his immersion... 

The tip pressed against my rim, hard and firm. I grit my teeth and he pushed in, fully driving his length inside with a satisfied grunt. I couldn’t help but moan, a similar high pitch to that which I expelled before, writhing beneath him as he pushed his hands to keep me down. I heard his chuckle behind me, the sound of satisfaction of his work and he quickened his pace, his skin slapping loudly against my own, the steady rhythm pushing the mattress down beneath me. When I groaned again, he moved his hand to my mouth, sliding two fingers inside and pulling at my cheek, forcefully thrusting again and grunting through it. He hit my prostate, something I now knew he could do with precision and purpose, and I instinctually bit down on the digits between my teeth…

He winced, sucking the air through his teeth and pulled away from me, drawing his fingers out as well. He turned me over onto my back once more and threw my legs over his shoulders, breaking in again with more force, fully comprehensive of the fact that it would make me moan more to go in deeper. I tried to hold it back, but the consistent onslaught if pleasure was too divine, too blissful; to not express it with sound would be inconsiderate, an insult even, to Quincey’s unmatched talent in copulative prowess and skill. I had to bite down on the sheet once more as I stared up at him, libidinous joy swimming in my eyes; gracing me with such delight was an action deserving of thanks, too wonderful to be disregarded or ignored. I yelped out and let the sheet fall from my mouth and he chuckled in his deep tone, grunting like a beast with each successive push he gave,

“You’re my whore, Jack!” He hissed, his uncouth language again breaking through from his primal and unadulterated state of mind; the man was so taboo and brazen, that I could not help but be taken aback every time. He continued his taunts, “What are you?” I suspected it could have been a rhetorical, as I always seemed particularly taciturn whenever his motions became my sole concentration, and I thought that he could have been simply asserting his dominance through his speech, continuing to relentlessly pound into me with all his force. He did, however, reinforce the question after I did not - or rather could not - respond, “What are you?!” His tone was raised, and his hand snaked to my slim neck, caressing my jaw while my head lolled on the cushions through each of his motions,

“Your whore!” I choked out through a groan, no attempt to hush my voice at all. The smile that stretched his mouth brought me joy every time he showed it, and he brought it down to me, joining his lips back onto mine and humming while he bucked his hips, penetrating me with his hard length, going deeper with each thrust. His hand cupped my cheek, stroking my beard carefully as his other moved down to hold me again in a fist, jerking his wrist to edge me closer. My moans were nothing short of salacious, truthfully a delightful combination of pure bliss and the types of sounds one would hear in a brothel. After these two cases of our secretive carnal pleasures, I had grown accustom to my inability to hold back, and he too had come to expect it, revelling delightfully in the delectable whines and wails I released because of him and his mighty thrusts. He pushed in once more, a haughty and confident strike, and without warning I finished in his hand, biting my lip with cheeks flushed rose; the colour of heat and shame. He laughed, a joyful chortle at me and my expense, _his whore_. He kept up his pushes, spreading my legs even wider to gain more space to insert himself into. He bent down again, joining our lips together as he finished himself inside, humming against me and holding tight to my thighs. 

Once he took his mouth away, panting, smiling and laughing, and flopped beside me on the mattress, just like the time before. He turned to me, hand resting on my cheek, eyes staring into my own,

“You oughta’ clean yourself up, Jack…” He joked, his eyes drifting to the basin that I had been bathing in. I laughed, reclining my head back into the pillows with eyes closed. Being with him was delightful.

I loved every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Seward is a cock slut pass it on <3


	4. Note, Quincey P. Morris to Dr John Seward

**Note, Quincey P. Morris to Dr John Seward**

Come to my rooms tonight, Jack, and I’ll shoot the lights out.  
Q

**Dr Seward’s Diary – 28th September**

Quincey and I made love again last night. It was no longer a surprise to me to hear those spurs on the other side of the door; the subsequent creak of the hinges as he swung it open and stepped in, not uttering a single word until he laid his eyes on me.

After handing me a note earlier that evening, we sat beside one another on the sofas of the living rooms, his hand firmly gripped onto his belt and legs akimbo. One of his arms was outstretched, resting on the back of the sofa and laying just above my shoulders. He bent down his head for his mouth to be level with my ear and whisper to me, with his ever so gentle voice:-

“Eleven-Thirty pm, Jack.” 

I arrived there before he did, closer to twenty-five past, and his fireplace was already blazing with a fresh log that gave the room a comforting warmth. I undressed from my regular clothes, shrugging on one of his cotton shirts for modesty’s sake and sat on his bed, resting just behind one of the four posters, gazing eagerly towards the closed door. A second later, he stepped through, his fantastic silhouette standing out against the light of the hallway, hat firmly on his head. He locked it behind him and began undressing. He still hadn’t looked at me as he unlaced his boots carefully, intently slipping them off his feet and placing them beside his wardrobe, still vexingly starving me of his attentions. I wondered for a moment if he had not yet noticed me; sitting there, in all but a shirt of his own, reclined upon his fresh and yielding mattress. Then, during the following action of his fluid fingers unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes finally snapped up to stare at me. 

It seemed all my calmness escaped me the second those eyes fell into mine and I choked on my own breath, a short, quiet gasp escaping me that forced me to bite my lip in order to quell the rise of a second. His braces still hung by the back of his legs, attached to his belt, and they dangled behind his thighs as he walked, his gait a slow, yet confident stride, gradually making his way over to the bed; his eternal smirk stretching his mouth wider and creasing the skin by his eyes with his joy. His tongue traced his upper lip as he blinked slowly, making a reach for the shirt that hung loosely on my torso. He fingered the seam, following its path down to the dip that ended between my pectorals.

To my disappointment, he did not commence straight away, instead taking his hand away from the shirt and moving it to his belt buckle. He chuckled and said to me:-

“Lay back on the pillows, Jack, and show yourself to me.”

I struggled to focus on his words as I stared at his bare torso, barely stopping myself from digging too hard into my lips with teeth as I shuffled backwards to his request, settling onto those soft pillows and watching him stay there, stood at the side of the bed; his strong arms poised and hands clasping to his belt. My eyes followed his movements as he took slow strides and stood at the foot of the bed; the green drapes that hung from the posters framing him perfectly in my field of view. The fire spat and crackled, its orange flames gently flickering in my peripheral. I took my hand from my side to take my length out from beneath my shirt, not yet fully firm.

He finally unbuckled his belt, slipping it out of the loopholes in an effortless move, folding it for the end to meet the buckle. He swayed the loop of leather in his hand, his firm grip holding it together and snapped it, a loud crack that made me jump. He slipped of his trousers with ease, exposing his bare length beneath - I had not noticed until he propped a leg upon the mattress that he wore garters; tight straps around his muscled calves, holding up his socks. And I could tell he was thinking about something; his brow furrowed and his lip twitched ever so slightly. He had made a decision, presumably where on not to use his belt, as he threw it onto the floor a moment later, creeping onto the bed slowly, eventually landing between my legs, holding onto my hips with his strong hands. A small, golden crucifix hung by a chain on his neck. Of course, I knew he was Christian – as we all were good men – but until now, he had never of shown it in any capacity. His head dipped down to kiss my jaw, that heavenly moustache grazing on my cheeks until he moved up and our lips finally latched together.

He hummed into it, both hands drifting upwards to touch the sides of my face, his tongue lapping around my own, lips softly cushioning onto mine. Instinctually, my hands moved from my sides to his legs; those strong, muscled thighs that bore his powerful thrusts, tracing them upwards to his narrow hips and then to lay flat on his back, his shoulder blades moving ever so slightly while his arms pulled away from my face and onto my chest; that hairless, smooth expanse of skin that rose and fell with each throbbing beat of my heart; my loins mimicking that same pulsing sensation as his deft fingers reached my nipple and squeezed. My lips disconnected from his as I moaned, the unexpected feeling of his fingertips taut on the sensitive skin both a pleasure and a shock. He smiled as he watched it happen, tongue between his teeth and eyes filled with his unsated lust. I stared into them, those warm, hazel eyes that told me exactly what he was going to do next… 

The hand floated down my torso, barely touching the skin of my abdomen to carefully wrap around me and begin his refined and practised strokes. He was a bona fide expert in pleasure, a true master of his craft, and he knew it too; the way his wicked smirk would stretch as he saw me begin to writhe beneath him, his beautiful pearls flashing while his grip tightened, his eyes closing to listen to the unbridled, libertine sonata of my moans…

His lips reached down to my ear, hot breath blowing onto it before he told me in a whisper:-

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you’re raw.”

When I heard it, my head fell back and my jaw unhinged, eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open and watch as he shifted backward for his mouth to be next to my member. He grinned and continued his speech laconically, saying only:-

“But first…”

His licked up its length from base to tip in a deliberately slow move, using the wide flat of his tongue, and then took it inside, engulfing it whole; his moustache brushing on my stomach as it reached the back of his deep throat. One of my hands grasped into his chestnut curls whist the other clutched to the sheets, pulling them tightly into my fist as I groaned. His head began to move upwards, towards the tip; his soft, beautiful lips enclosed around the delicate skin until he descended once more, returning it to the wet walls of his throat. I almost lashed at the sensation, far deeper and more delectable than even last time when he committed the same act upon me. His hand moved onto mine while he concentrated, his gentle thumb brushing on my knuckles that had turned white from my hold on the sheet. When he came up again, he spread my legs further apart, diving straight back down to tongue me delightfully, the precise laps sending me into bliss even further, finishing with a whole lick up my genitalia, holding my length steadily in his hand. Then, he leant back up, looming over me so that I was forced to crane my neck to meet our eyes again. He took his hand away from me and stroked himself, eyes full of taunting, his body and soul ready to fulfil his promise to me. He pushed his tip onto my entrance, the hard, stiff head of his length teasingly poised just within reach…

I began to pant uncontrollably, the anticipation painfully taxing upon my mental state, I could have been going mad with it. He grinned and released a chuckle, bending down between my legs for that golden crucifix to dangle in front of my eyes - God was watching Quincey Morris’ whore writhe beneath his stature; this brazen man of lustful and libidinous intentions ready to pound into me with relentless force. His grin widened, and I knew he was about to commence. Yet, he teased me further:-

“Are you ready, Jack?” His tip was pushing harder, still not yet penetrated into me, though I could feel the pre-ejaculate start to leak from it. I grit my teeth and managed to breathe out:-

“Always.”

He thrusted in and I yelped, his keen and strong member finally inside of me after a much-endured wait, starting a rhythm of powerful drives like every time before; in this instance expressing himself with a very loud, raucous groan that made my body quiver. He pushed my shaking legs onto my chest vehemently, gaining more leverage with which to push in; my body helplessly rocking with his motions, hands fisting the sheets again to relieve myself of the rapture. When I opened my eyes to look up, I saw all the pleasure in his eyes, pupils dilated wide, lids flickering as he concentrated on giving me all he had. 

Subjugation beneath his control was glorious; his strong biceps that forced me down into the mattress being a true expression of his power and prowess in coitus that I could not describe, even if I tried… 

When my lips parted to take in another breath, he joined our lips together again, the soft and gentle kisses a contrast to his ruthless and relentless thrusts, bucking in and out of me with such velocity, my moans reached a higher pitch, characteristic of a true whore. He laughed joyfully every time he heard it; to know it was his divine thrusts that gave me the indulgence of pleasure was his gratification; adoring each choke, moan and wail I released for him. 

He moaned deeply against my mouth as he sped up, equally reaching a new depth with each exquisite drive into me, grasping me again with his brilliant hand to jerk vigorously. His fist around my length, coupled with the hot, passionate kisses of his mouth couldn’t keep me holding on for much longer, and he must have sensed this as he pulled himself out of me with a clean, yet harsh, withdrawal. When I moaned in vexation, begging Quincey for more, he obliged; seizing my waist and forcing me onto my front. He hiked up my hips and pushed my face into the cushions,

“Stay there.” He commanded, his voice ragged through his gasps for air, and he took each of my wrists behind my back, holding them in a firm grip. He pushed himself back inside, a beautiful sensation to be reunited with, each thrust a powerful jolt that shoved my face into those pillows, his hold on my hands making me completely dominated and pacified. Groans became muffled into the sheets, though I still heard each and every grunt that he expelled, usually an accompaniment with each of his thrusts; consistently hitting my prostate in each turn.

When he pulled my up by my shoulder, I whined and finished perfectly onto his sheets, whole body shuddering in his grasp. He groaned at the sight and forced me back down, keeping up his thrusts until he finished within, his fingers digging into my wrists with a tightness that left small, purple bruises.

He stayed within me for a moment, catching his breath, then pulled away to kneel behind me. I flipped myself over to look at him, the sweat dripping from his brow, and kissed him fervently, my hands braced on his beautiful chest. He smiled stoked my hair,

“Sleep in my bed, Jack; Art’s all hat and no cattle.”

What he was trying to say was that our dearly beloved friend and Lord was too ignorant to know, or realise, why we might ever stay in the same room. I smiled back, pure joy in my eyes like always and said,

“I’d love to, Quincey.”


	5. Dr Seward's Diary III

**Dr Seward’s Diary – 29th September**

It is of utmost importance that these recordings are disposed of, or otherwise hidden, to remove the risk of our companions finding out about the relationship Quincey and I had indulged in these past few weeks… As Mr Harker’s wife has offered to transcribe these records, it is imperative that she does not discover the evidence of our sins...

Though for this recording, I must confess that the two of us have continued our tryst and will remain in doing so. Our unequivocal love for one another exceeds our need for secrecy, though the two of us had discussed the matter only last night as he came into my rooms unannounced:-

“Jack, if we may talk delicately for a moment.”

I was worried, the same palpitating anxiety within me that I had felt on the evening of the 7th. His eyes no longer contained the wild lust that was usually there when he gazed upon me, instead concern and perhaps a sting of fear that was quavering his ever-strong manhood. I rose from my seat on the chaise lounge to greet him, but he waved me down, walking over to crouch by my knees and talk to me the way he would our poor Lucy. He grasped my hands into his own and looked up with sincerity, my lips parting with anticipation for what he should say to me. He saw this unease within me, perhaps feeling the quickening pulse on my wrist, and so held the tension no longer:-

“After what happened with…” He stammered, his poor emotions getting the better of his iron strength, “…poor Miss Lucy, I think it’s more important than ever to be with one another - most truthfully and trustingly,” My expression softened to hear this, his gentle and kind speech a wonderful reminder of his loving nature towards me. He put his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a golden band, “I want you to wear this, Jack, and think of me every time you see it.” This explained his nervousness. He turned my hand so that my palm rested on his, and I watched in surprise and happiness as he slipped it onto my slender digit; fitting perfectly around it. Instantly, I knew this was a mock proposal of sorts, a promise that he would always be by my side and I with him. I smiled, finally taking my eyes away from the ring and into his deep, brown eyes, struggling to find the words in the moment to describe how I felt, managing to stammer out a short expression:-

“Quincey, I’ve held you close in my heart since the first time we had met, and now a different kind of love has grown within me that longs for your hand to be with mine forever.”

He smiled as I said it, showing me his beautiful teeth, his hands gripping tighter to mine. He craned his neck up the close the distance between our faces and whispered back to me:-

“Of course, Jack,” I saw his eyes begin to well with tears, “Why, you’re sweeter than stolen honey!” And he kissed me gently with those lips, savouring each swipe of my tongue around his, humming against me as I pushed against him. And as we broke apart, reopening our eyes, I saw a new desire within them, tears vanished, his look an obvious cue for me to start disrobing before him. I stood up to remove my jacket and shirt as he remained where he sat, knelt by my feet, using both of his hands to remove my trousers and pull them down to lay them at my ankles. 

Before I had the chance to even look down at him, he took my length into his mouth, all the way down his throat and forcing a yelp out of me; the unexpected shock of pleasure electrifying my loins in the most delightful way, each bob of his mouth and swipe of his tongue a warm and wet welcome for me to begin stiffening. And as if completely on their own, each of my hands drifted to caress his neck, guiding each of his pushes down my shaft, those soft brown curls a heavenly texture to plunge my fingers into. When his moustache brushed onto my stomach I moaned once more, his lips humming around me to affirm his contentment in proving me pleasure. His meticulous mouth was doing wonders around me, and for a moment I wished for it to stay there forever; licking and bobbing with care and precision, tightening his throat at my tip to make me squeal. As my fingers clutched into his hair from a certain blissful pass of his tongue, he took his mouth off of it, looking up to me with a wide smile and bright eyes, beautiful enough to fall into every time they gazed upon me. 

He stood back up to grasp my head and kiss my neck, murmuring under his breath between kisses:-

“In a minute, you’re gonna sit on the bed, right?”

I couldn’t speak, rapt withal as his tongue danced on my supple skin, only managing a short nod in understanding, letting him continue until his mouth kissed up to my ear where he whispered a single command:-

“Now.” 

His instruction carried more importance to me than my own pleasure, knowing that soon enough, if I held my patience, he would grace me with his mouth again, somewhere, _anywhere_ that I asked for it. And so he let go of me, letting me crawl onto the mattress and those crisp, yielding sheets, sitting patiently for him, watching him slowly pace over to my phonograph – the same one to which I speak now – and place the needle down onto the record, allowing it to play a beautiful Mendelssohn symphony…

He finally strolled over the side of the bed, carefully peeling away his jacket from his limbs and placing onto the foot of the bed. With his eyes locked onto mine, he took each hand and rolled his sleeves; delicately folding them to reduce any creases and having the additional effect of making me wait for what he had non-verbally promised. Once he was done with the sleeves, his fingers floated to his trouser fastenings, smirking as he undid them, watching me stare with parted lips in equal anticipation of seeing his form and feeling his touch… 

His trousers fell to his ankles when he removed the belt, my eyes tearing away from his to gawk at his majesty, lids going heavy and my breaths becoming shorter, watching as he climbed onto the bed beside me and lay on his side like a Greek man in the symposium; an unapologetic lecher who feasted on everything and everyone…

His eyes explored my form, examining each and every part of what he could see, including the hard length between my legs; its leaking tip and rose flush. His coy smile widened, and he brushed a hand across my bare chest, remarking:-

“I’m fixin’ to ravish you, Jack…”

All I could manage was a simple interjection,

“Oh?” I bit my lip as soon as it left my mouth, feeling like a fool to question his intentions in any capacity. He smiled and nodded, fingers moving to one of the nubs on my chest to tweak and say:-

“But first, I should like to see you with yourself…”

I didn’t know what he meant; whether he was using his Texan colloquialisms or being purposefully vague, and so I sought to ask him, my voice only a whisper,

“What do you mean, Quincey?”

He bit his own lip, just the corner, and took my right hand in his. I hadn’t noticed that he had placed a matching band onto his own finger until that point, the gold catching my eye as he moved it to guide my hand down to my own stiffness, letting my fingers wrap around it carefully, allowing me to feel its weight in my palm.

“Touch yourself…” He commanded in a low, sultry voice, his eyes concentrated solely on me, waiting with a smile. I swallowed, nervousness from the fact that I had never dared to do so before, the influences of a Christian lifestyle seeing to that. He must’ve seen this within me, my hesitations and doubts, and so began to direct my hand in its movements and say with a voice kind and reassuring, “Up and down, Jack, that’s right…” He watched me move my wrist as instructed, gentle tugs that caressed the sensitive skin so similarly to how he would, the thumb tracing the top while the palm held the underside.

He continued to assist my motions, moving my hand in a rhythm to the swelling music, each successive stroke a wonderful caress that made me moan; once he was certain that I was well enough accustomed to my hand wrapped around my length, he joined our lips together again, kissing me softly with an encouraging move of his head, only disconnecting every other second to mutter a ‘go on’ or ‘keep going’ to affirm my actions, body moving closer to mine until his hardness rested upon my bare thigh. When he began to rut against my skin, seeking friction from my leg, I tightened my grip, the feeling of pressure around my length so wonderful, but still a poor imitation of how Quincey’s deft palm could stroke. I longed for him instead of myself and he must have seen this too; he batted my hand away and replaced it with his own, giving me the speed and rapturing pleasure that I desired, faster, more purposed strokes. I had to break away from his mouth to moan, a salacious sound I knew he revelled in when heard, smiling wide and releasing a deep chuckle.

His brow raised with his coy look, that handsome and playful expression that always made my heart beat at tenfold the speed of its usual rate; less so of anxiety, more so of expectant nervousness – the wait for pleasure being torturous, the prospect of it right in front of my eyes and knowing that he had the power to take it away if he so pleased... But I knew he didn’t, he longed for me just as much as I longed for him; the sole reason why he would enter my rooms unannounced was to give it to me, that lustful character trait congenial. His hand slowed and he stared into me with his deep eyes.

The look he gave me was commanding, instructing, and as if he compelled me to move; I did so and shifted to my side as he moved onto his back, reclining onto the cushions as I had done so many times before. It was at that point that I realised what he was requesting; legs outstretched and hands behind his head, that glorious length of his laying erect on his stomach. I bit my lip, coupled hesitation and excitement, and I bent down between his knees to reach closer, my lips inches away from it.

“I want you to use your mouth on me, Jack,” He said to me, those words a command I could never refuse. I smiled, albeit nervously, and inched closer, listening to his offers of encouragement, “Nice and easy, Jack, nice and easy…” His head rested back as he said it, patient and waiting for me to commence, the relaxing strings of Mendelssohn’s orchestra providing a calming atmosphere with which to begin. 

I extended my tongue past my lips, jaw unhinged in preparation, and licked up his underside, the tip of my tongue venturing to slide past his slit. I knew how much I enjoyed the feeling when he applied it to me, and to no surprise he groaned, taking a hand from the back of his head and placing it onto mine, a gentle rest on my scalp. 

I used a hand to direct it towards my mouth, slipping its substantial girth past my lips. He bucked his hips, an uncontrolled instinctual move, and pushed its head into my cheek, the generous weight pushing down onto my tongue too. 

He opened his eyes as he felt it, smiling wide to look at me, his whore worshiping him by only using the lips. His fingers plunged into my locks further, fingernails tingling my scalp as they moved across, urging me to begin moving. We progressed in synchronised actions; myself pushing my neck down to allow more of it inside, and his hips pushing up slightly, arching his back and driving it in deeper. Its wonderful size within my soft cheeks was brilliant, the contours I could feel with my mouth, each vein beneath the sensitive skin an easy target to apply my tongue to; all of it glorious until his spiked it into my throat, causing me to choke.

My face flushed instantly with embarrassment, my wet lips shining with my saliva and eyes watery from the concentration. He smiled and used a finger to break the string of spittle connecting his tip and my lips, offering me one of the hardest questions I had ever heard, saying:-

“Jack, you wanna continue, or should I just fuck you now?”

I paused, reluctant to answer right away to seem too eager, but eventually stammered out an answer:-

“Quincey, with all your fervour and effort, I beg of you to make love to me…”

I panted as I looked up, my throat sore, and he leant up to push me back, reversing our positions. He loomed over me with his stature as he had done so many times before; strong shoulders and biceps holding himself up above me, muscled legs that were soon to be driving his thrusts, his crucifix a swaying pendant before my eyes.

He separated my legs slowly and rubbed my rim with the tips of two fingers, knowing the cruel teasing would make me writhe. He also knew I had waited long enough for this and so bent down to kiss me one last time before beginning. As he lined himself up with my entrance, the room fell silent, Mendelssohn’s record reaching its conclusion, only static coming out of the phonograph’s speaker. He laughed and said to me:-

“Now I’ll be able to hear your whines as loud as they come outta ya…”

Before I could respond, he thrusted in, hitting my gland immediately and choking out of me the moan he so desperately wanted to hear, loud and boisterous. His rhythm commenced at once, both hands spreading my thighs further apart; the wonderous penetration divinity itself, each impalement a glorious sensation to bask in,

“Oh, Quincey!” I ejected, a helpless moan to this onslaught of pleasure; forceful, strong drives that made me writhe beneath him once more, my legs wrapping around his hips to bring him closer, both hands clinging to his nape. I stared half lidded at his gleaming chest, the hot sweat tricking down his neck; tangible evidence of his exertion upon me and through his own groans he commanded:-

“Touch yourself again, Jack, and let me watch you finish!”

I obeyed, taking myself into my palm and stroking to match the bouncing rhythm of Quincey’s thrusts, whining in the most pornographic way imaginable, thankful no-one else was in the house. My tongue fell through my lips as my head lolled on the pillows, body rocking back and forth below him, knowing the lewd sight of my bare body and all its sinful noises was a pleasure to look at through his eyes, edging him closer to completion just to watch it. Those pupils of his had dilated wide ever since he began; the tell of absolute and unequivocal adoration for me, the brilliant bliss of each sensational thrust and his unmatched sexual drive. He grunted as he watched me caress myself, tongue between his teeth and drawing in harsh, short breaths to compose himself. I could tell he wanted me to finish first, watch it happen in my eyes as the orgasm took me over, the delightful climax and ejaculation that would make my body convulse when experienced…

I tightened my grip on myself further, pumping my wrist with a newer speed as he always would, and he pushed in harder, a bucking force to hit my gland once more, finishing and coating my bare stomach in white while is moaned. 

Through my fluttering lashes, I saw his lascivious grin - a bared rictus of lust - and he bent down closer to by body to exact each of his thrusts, mouth dipping below my jaw and pressing onto my neck. I moaned as his wonderful member pushed in one last time, spilling inside of me, he grunted into my neck and panting.

He knelt up between my legs, gazing down with a smile at my exhausted body below him. His hands smoothed over my skin, a gentle caress before laughing, “How’s that for conjugation?” And I chuckled too, reaching my hand up to grasp his roaming hands. 

So that was how he saw it; a consummation of our promise, a shameless and beautiful union now made permanent. Though, he still continued, “Jack, we should still keep this between us, do you understand?”

“Of course, Quincey,” I replied, leaning up to look him in the eyes, sincere as possible, “It’d be best for no-one else to know…”

And our lips latched again, a warm and comforting kiss that sent us both back to lying onto the mattress, held in one another’s arms into a comforting embrace.

Neither of us said out loud our reasoning for keeping it this way, but we both knew it; knew it since the first time in my office, the very moment we kissed for the first time. Our Christian faith was a problematic contrast to our mutual feelings for one another, and the assumption went that our friends wouldn’t take too kindly us either…

Such was the life of sin, but I loved it, nonetheless.


	6. Dr Seward's (Confidential) Diary

**Dr Seward’s Diary – 9th October (_evening_)**

There was no surprise in me when Quincey walked into my rooms last night. He was bound to meet me; the strain of these past few days a mounting stress on all of us that needed to be relieved in one way or another. It just so happened the two of us had each other.

I was facing the fireplace, a glass of brandy in my shaking hand when the door creaked open and the lock switched closed with a click. His spurs rattled on is boots; soft paces towards me until he was behind, his warming presence pressing against my back. A hand of his snaked to my waist, the other grasping to the glass and gently relieving it from my hold. He tsked, a single sympathetic tut, and leaned his mouth beside my ear to say:-

“Oh, Jack, are you quite alright?”

He placed the glass on the mantle, soundlessly, and laced his fingers into my own as I sighed, and replied with a shaking voice:-

“Quincey, if I can be of complete honesty,” He nodded beside me and held my hand tighter, thumb brushing gently on my knuckle, “If Jonathan couldn’t protect Mrs Harker, how are we going to protect each other?”

I always felt I could be honest with Quincey, his unfaltering support for me making him forever a man I can rely upon, no matter the severity of the issue at hand. His other hand tightened on my waist, making its presence aware to me as he reassured:-

“I’m gonna to shield you from that monster so long as he lives. God knows it won’t be long before we destroy that devil on his own doorstep.” His tone was deeply emphatic; confidently said and expressed to console my worries. I kept my head forward, not yet looking at him as I replied with a simple enough rebuttal:- 

“But what about yourself?” I had to grit my teeth to stifle a break in my voice, and he certainly noticed this, dipping his mouth down to kiss my neck and murmur:-

“Jack, Jack , Jack…” The way he repeated my name was enough to make my knees weak on its own, distracting me entirely from everything that was clouding my mind. He kissed the skin of my neck softly and pressed his body against me closer, his groin firmly pushing on my curve. I gasped, and when he pulled away, I saw him smirk in my peripheral, “I’m a cowboy with plenty ‘a notches in my gun. I’m gonna be just fine.” That hand of his slipped down to my crotch, beginning to rub. It was at that point that I was thankful he’d removed the glass from my hand, otherwise that generous amount of brandy would’ve spilled all over the rug beneath our feet, soiling it with that rich, alcoholic amber. He moved my hand onto the mantle so as I was bracing my weight and he gripped onto my hips, a powerful, controlling grasp that rendered me more or less immobile. I turned my head to finally look at him, and the fire cracked as I did so, its orange flame flickering in front of us both, roaring quietly, and then he kissed me with his soft lips, starting to push his crotch against me in slow, repetitive grinds.

All of the stresses in my subconscious dissolved the second he began and I felt him stiffen up against me, and this rush of memory flooded into my mind from what was just over a month ago in my office, his strong hands grasping me for the first time with his dominating powers, holding me there and taking me without reticence of any sort. Those hands were warm too, delightfully snug around my waist as his grip gradually tightened around me, fingertips gently pressing into flesh while he pushed on harder, expelling a quiet grunt. His left grasped onto my belt, effortlessly unbuckling it and pulling from the loopholes to discard on the floor at our feet.

I muttered his name between the kisses and moaned, those deft fingers pulling me out of my trousers and starting to stroke with accuracy, my breath hitching when I felt the cool metal of the golden band on his fourth finger. The pads of my digits gripped onto the mantle tighter as my body jolted forward with each of his forceful grinds and he repeated my name to me, right beside my ear, running his thumb across my tip, asking me:-

“What do you wanna do, Jack?” And he took my ear lobe between his teeth, biting down slightly to make me, once again, gasp; though it was less from the shock of it and more from the strange familiarity to the feeling, the same thing he did when he first asked, in his words, to fuck me…

I turned around and let my hands drift to the nape of his neck, my eyes looking into his soft browns through half lids. I told him that I loved him, that he was my whole entire world; without him, I would have probably suffered a mental breakdown at this point, what with my troubling patients and poor Lucy’s death, along with everything else going on in our lives amid the expectations of all us; our duty as men to protect the wife of our good friend Jonathan Harker. Quincey was, as I have previously noted, a moral Viking, as well as a true rock in my life that, now, I absolutely couldn’t live without. _My_ Quincey.

He stared back at me, and it happened that I had said none of it out loud. I realised that when he chuckled and gazed down to me with those soft eyes and said:-

“Well? We haven’t got all night, ey, Jack?”

And I bit my lip, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks, staining them scarlet, and he promptly covered them with the warm palms of his hands to preserve my dignity. He pulled my face towards him and latched our lips together, stroking my cheekbones with the tips of his thumbs. My own hands roamed across his torso, brushing them past his firm pectorals and down to his abdomen, then to his hips which I held onto until he broke the kiss. I smiled and wordlessly lowered myself onto my knees, my fumbling hands still shaking from equal anxiety and anticipation, and I unfastened his trousers, pulling them down so that they pooled by his ankles. He seized the back of my head in a firm yet gentle grip and ushered my mouth towards his stiff length.

His fingertips pulled my jaw open, grazing them over my lips before returning his hand to my head. I took in a breath and descended, opening my throat as wide as I could to avoid choking, much like last time, and encased it inside my cheeks with a gentle swallow of the saliva in my mouth. He groaned as my tongue made contact with the base, and in a fast, wide stroke, I came up and passed it over his slit to lap up the bead of pre-ejaculate leaking from it.

At this, he let himself loose, sinking his fingers into my hair to stroke my scalp and moaning heavily in a deep, guttural tone. The gentle encouragement led me down further, letting it deeper into the hollow of my throat; tight and perfectly wet for him to relish in. And just like last time, he bucked his hips to force his member in fully, though on this occasion I was determined to maintain my composure, and so stifled the choke that was rising in my throat, swallowing down around him and tugging on the sensitive skin with my lips as I drew myself backwards slightly; an action that was simultaneously rewarded with one of his deep groans and then rectified with another push of his soft hands on my nape, pulling me back down. I complied to his want with a keenness in my motions, quickly resuming the hollowing of my cheeks and the lapping of my tongue on his shaft, using each swipe and bob to draw a moan from the back of his throat and make his grasp on my locks tighter with each one.

The next time I reached his tip with my lips, he gently pulled me away, his hand returning to rest on my cheek and brush his thumb on my bottom lip. He grinned with his beautiful pearls, tongue slipping past them, and I thought in that moment that he was unequivocally, absolutely and manifestly the most handsome man I had ever seen. It was a repeated action of his, showing me this soft side of him when our friends weren’t around, and it truthfully did mean the world to me. So, naturally, I smiled with him, letting my eyes follow he body as he stooped down onto his knees to be at the same level as me, kicking the trousers from his feet as he did so. He took my left hand in a gentle hold and slowly, he leaned towards me, building up the tension between us until he eventually joined our mouth together again with a soft press, letting the kiss gradually rise in lustful, sensuous passion as the two of us pushed against one another, our hands wandering to each other’s bodies. 

His digits found their place on that gold band on my slender finger, stroking it carefully, and he smiled against my lips, a grin I knew was filled with the purest joy that a man could feel; knowing it because I always feel myself doing the same on every occasion our hands might brush, the touch a familiar and wonderful comfort as we make contact, reminding us of our promises to each other.

His other hand slid its way down from my waist to hold me in his careful hand, resuming those divine jerks of his wrist; the unexpected caress on the sensitive skin causing me a gasp that detached our lips.

The second we broke away and he opened his eyes, he saw my heavy lids and parted mouth, and squeezed a little tighter and, yet again, coaxed a groan from me, no longer taking any trepidation in vocalising my pleasure at the highest of volumes, his quite chuckle confirmation he revelled in the libertine expression. He eagerly pulled off my trousers, letting me unbutton my shirt, and he did the same for himself once I was fully in the nude. I leaned back onto the soft rug beneath us, that warming fire making it all the more comforting for our bare bodies to recline on…

He soon settled between my legs, all the while smiling that eternal, loving smile that creased the skin beside his gorgeous eyes, and he smoothed his hands across my body, appreciating every curve and plane of my physique, gazing with leching eyes. A hand of mine came up to his jaw as he did so, tilting that chin up to feel that strong bone, the flickering golden glow of the fire casting perfect shadows that made him all the more striking in my eyes. My thumb brushed on his moustache and upper lip, which he took as a request to open his mouth. He did so, taking it between his teeth and letting that deft tongue of his give it a single swipe. I graced another smile on my mouth to match his, and then the head of his length pressed itself firmly against my entrance. 

My eyes widened, and I must say, my heart rate elevated significantly; pounding in my chest at a speed notably faster than before. Despite that tall glass of brandy that was in my hand before Quincey had walked in, the alcohol had yet to take its effect on me, and so my senses were still on high alert, forcing me to be aware of that rapid, pacing heart in my ribs. In the moment, I couldn’t distinguish from possible apprehension or anticipation; whether it was the lingering thought of our friends’ danger still in my mind, or the intense heat and passion of our carnal union…

When his lips kissed mine again with a relieving, soft grace, I promptly realised it was the latter, and allowed him take me, listening to the hot pants between the kisses and the muted roar of the fire beside us, moaning against his mouth once he pushed himself fully inside of me, groaning as I clenched around him:-

“Damn, Jack!” And he bit his bottom lip, commencing a rhythm of thrusts, my head lolling on that soft rug with the rocking of my body beneath him. The pads of his fingers began to dig into the sides of my neck, briefly shortening my breath and I wailed at the sensation, that joyful smirk of his mouth getting replaced with a lustful rictus as soon as he heard it, his groan like the purr of a wild tiger as he thrust himself in again and again. I looked up at him through my lashes bit my lip, illustrating the image of wantonness I knew he craved to see, hoping he might reuse his palm on my length...

He detected this in my eyes, I must assume, for he instantly brought a hand down and wrapped it around me, stroking me with delectable speed, my breath hitching for a second time from the pleasure and eyes helplessly fluttering closed. I heard his quiet laugh as he watched me, and despite my eyes being very much shut, I could still see the image in my mind of his beautiful face with all its features; dazzling brown eyes, strong, cut cheekbones and that soft moustache above his lovely lips. Those lips then kissed me on the neck, his head dipping below my jaw to let his mouth hum against the skin, teeth briefly grazing, biting even, to give that extra sensation and shock to my senses.

It worked as intended and my body arched in his grip, writhing beneath him, and he pushed in harder, finally hitting my prostate gland as I knew he was capable of. The many times before this had been proof of his coital excellence, and I had been yearning for him to do it the second he began. My high pitched wails let loose and I threw my head back on the carpet, giving him full access to the skin of my throat to latch his mouth onto, his tongue lapping and licking, his hot breath panting on me every time he’d take himself away.

“_Quincey!_” I breathed out, near inaudible, though his ears’ proximity to my mouth was close enough for him to hear and so he took the praise well, increasing the fervency of his drives and quickening the pace of his palm.

After nearly two weeks of no intimate contact, my body had become more sensitive to his touches than ever and it wasn’t long before I finished; a long, drawn out orgasm flooding my entire body, my groan seemingly eternal and boisterously loud. Corporeal ecstasy through and through. The spoils spilled in white stripes on my stomach, his eager eyes watching it happen, flashing back to mine, drowning in his lust, and he let go of my softening member to lean himself lower between my legs and grip onto my thighs more tightly.

His smile told me everything I needed to know about what he was about to do, and he lifted my legs above his shoulders, gaining such perfect leverage over me with which to thrust inside that he was deeper than he had ever been before, his length throbbing inside of me, wet and leaking. He churned his tongue inside his mouth and took a deep inhale through his nose, and while keeping up his divine thrusts, asked me the crucial question:-

“What are you, Jack?”

I looked up at him with my wide eyes, my ragged breaths coming hot and fast out of me as I replied in a wail:-

“I’m Quincey Morris’ whore!”

And the moment he heard it, he let out a final grunt, finishing inside, muttering a string of expletives and panting though them all. When he pulled out, slow and tender, he lay beside me on the soft rug, gazing at my bare body illuminated by the flickering flames of the fire. He smiled again, tongue between his teeth conveying all his joy.

God knows I love that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) So sorry it's been such a while since the last chapter! I hope you enjoy it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
